


The One Where Veronica Goes to Hell

by Chikabiddy



Series: Logan Lives [10]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Logan Lives, Post-Canon Fix-It, S4 canon compliant, non-permanent death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikabiddy/pseuds/Chikabiddy
Summary: TW: Logan is dead in the beginning of this one. As it is a Logan Lives story, I promise he will be back but he isn't yet by the end of this chapter. It is semi-dark and I wanted to be upfront so anyone who wants to opt-out can do so now. I hope you'll stick with it, though! I am really proud of this one.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: Logan Lives [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563652
Comments: 34
Kudos: 38





	1. Into the Breach

Veronica knows everyone is worried about her. She can feel it in their looks. Hear it in their hushed voices. What do they expect from her? A week ago, her life was literally blown to pieces. Her dad keeps dropping hints for therapy, and Mac keeps offering spa days. Wallace just sits with her. At least he seems to know what will actually help. 

Veronica doesn’t remember anything about the first two days. She has glimpses of the third and fourth. The fifth day, she actually got out of bed. And today she decides she’s going to bring Logan back. 

It isn’t fair. Logan deserves to be alive. He’s the good one. He had his life together. He changed himself, bettered himself, became more than the past that tried to break him. So she’s going to fix it. She’s Veronica Fucking Mars and the universe will not take Logan Echolls-Mars from her. She refuses to let it. 

She tries good old fashioned prayer first. If there is a God, surely he understands why it isn’t Logan’s time. She gives up on that after less than a day. 

Witchcraft might offer something more effective. She drives to a few different wicca/occult stores, one over six hours away. Her dad calls her when she’s halfway home but she ignores it. There’s nothing he can say she hasn’t already thought herself. 

Mac catches her when she’s trying the first spell. She thinks Mac may rat her out, tell her dad she’s breaking. Instead, Mac sits by her, helps her with the pronunciation, offers to drive with her next time she needs supplies. 

It’s been another week and thirteen unsuccessful spells. The smell of burnt feathers and old dirt lingers in her apartment. Small bones, stones, trinkets and jewels are littered across the space. Pony rarely leaves the bedroom.

Mac left three days ago, something about talking to a friend, and Veronica is barely hanging on. One failure after another weighs on her. She tries runes during Mac’s absence. It’s difficult to find information on runes and exactly how to scribe them. She does her best. 

She also reaches out online. Posts in any forum she can find offering money, of which she now has far too much, for suggestions and advice. Some recommend the spells she already tried. Some tell her she’s crazy to try. She stays away from blood magic, the images and descriptions she was sent still turn her stomach. But she does pay half a million dollars for a tome specializing in resurrections. 

She feels more hope than she has in weeks when it arrives. It smells of old leather and dust. The pages feel brittle to the touch. The next two days are dedicated to the painstaking recreation of every ritual. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, just keeps trying.

None of it works.

Her dad stops by after three days of no contact, no food, no rest, no results, and she turns away from the horror written all over his face. He doesn’t understand, could never understand what it feels like to lose your better half because he always was the better half. 

Mac still isn’t back, at week three. Her dad pries, asking about her health, texting or calling multiple times a day to make sure she eats. Coming over at night to make sure she stops and tries to sleep. She never does. 

He finally asks how much she’s spent and she says she doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Maybe millions by this point. But money is worthless and Logan is everything.

Mac gets back halfway through week four as she’s trying an old Norse ritual. Someone emailed it to her, anonymously, not requesting anything in return. Her hand shakes as she scribes the runes. She stumbles over the foreign pronunciation. It doesn’t work. 

Mac tells her where she’s been. Back in Istanbul, talking to a friend she made there. A friend who knew someone who knew of someone who was brought back to life. Veronica’s heart stops as Mac details how she tracked down the actual person. The person who said it’s true, confirmed it is possible. It is possible. 

There are instructions, long and detailed instructions. Mac says Veronica must follow them to the letter. That’s the only way for it to work. And the key is, it cannot be their time to die. If it is their time to die, you can’t get them back. Veronica isn’t worried. It wasn’t Logan’s time to die. 

There is no way to express thanks for what Mac has given her, and Veronica can’t find the words anyway. Mac assures her she doesn’t need them. It wasn’t Logan’s time, and Veronica needs to bring him back. That’s all the thanks Mac wants.

Veronica knows her journey is going to be long, so she prepares accordingly and as quickly as she can. The instructions say she needs to go in late Spring, and late Spring is right now. She takes less than a day to get everything together.

She buys hiking boots, the expensive kind. She buys far too many prepackaged meals and a backpack to carry them. And she buys everything she thinks she might need and all the materials to get Logan back. An extra coat, a white rose, a blanket, flashlight, loads of batteries, and bottles and bottles of water. 

Before she leaves, she weighs what Logan’s most prized possession would be. It cannot be herself, or Pony… She wanders the apartment looking for something he cares deeply about. She passes their dresser and the metal glint of his Grandfather’s old lighter catches her eye. It’s perfect and she pockets it. 

The instructions say she needs to go to a forest, the thicker the better. Google Maps shows nothing close to her is what she considers dense. She decides to go to the Redwoods in Northern California; the images show overlapping trees, no spots of brown or ground, and she thinks that will be her best bet. There’s no second chances here. She has to get it right the first time. 

It’s over thirteen hours to drive to the Redwoods, so she gets a flight instead. One leaving tonight. 

She doesn’t tell her dad or Wallace. She doesn’t want them to try talking her out of it. Doesn’t want them to try anything desperate to stop her. Doesn’t want to see their pity when their pleading doesn’t work. 

Mac hugs her goodbye, tells her good luck, whispers encouragement. Veronica soaks it in, saves the offered strength for later when she knows she’ll need it. Pony is safe with Mac.

She leaves her phone at home.

The flight is quick and soon she's off renting a car and finding a motel to crash in for the night. She doesn’t sleep at all, spending her time pouring over the written instructions Mac gave her. Memorizing every word to ensure she does everything exactly as described. She’ll be hiking in the morning and doesn’t want to take time to stop and double check she’s following the instructions.

The sun is creeping above the trees, casting a pink and yellow and green glow over the road as she drives out to the park entrance. She pays the fee, paying extra to get a pass through the weekend. The car will be here when she gets back with Logan. They’ll have a way home. 

Though the sun lights the sky, the forest is still dark as she parks and double checks her bag for supplies. She’ll be walking all day and there won’t be time to come back. There won’t be time to return if she’s forgotten something essential. The feel of Logan’s lighter in the front pocket of her jeans reassures her that she has the important things. She straps a compass to her wrist like a watch and sets off on the path.

The pathway is springy and the air is musty; the sun hasn’t had a chance to burn off the mist of the night. She sticks to the path for a while, wanting to ensure she knows how to get back once she’s collected Logan. It wouldn’t do for them to end up dying, lost in the woods, just when she got him back.

Her growling stomach is the first indication that the morning has come and gone. A felled log on the side of the road makes a good bench and Veronica lets herself rest a moment and eat. Running on adrenaline and determination will only get her so far; she needs actual fuel, too. She doesn’t taste the food as she scarfs it down.

After she stops for lunch, she decides it’s time to break from the path. She uses the compass and map to maintain a straight direction, ensuring she knows how to get back to the path once she’s collected Logan. She sets off again, confident in her plan. 

After a few minutes, she notices her feet are sore. The sides of her feet and her heels are developing blisters. The constant rubbing of new boots, even expensive ones, is taking a toll. She might come to regret it, but for now she doesn’t care. It’s easy to ignore the twinge of pain when she knows who it’s for. 

By the time the sun starts sinking in the sky, it’s not just her feet that are sore. Muscles she didn’t know existed scream their protest of her continued movement. She ignores the strain. The instructions are clear: walk until the sun goes down. 

It’s another two hours of stumbling, course correcting, teeth grinding persistence before it gets too dark to see. A moment of panic overtakes her before she calms herself. She knows the instructions by heart. She knows what she needs to do. 

Steeling herself, praying this isn’t a sick joke she wasted days on, she looks to her left. For a moment, she sees nothing. Then, relief floods her. There it is, just like the instructions said: a white glow in the distance. 

She musters the last of her strength and walks towards it. 

These woods are tricky. Three times she stumbles, but she refuses to fall. Nothing will stop her now. She slows her walk, steps more carefully, and continues towards the light. 

While she walks, she keeps Logan’s name at the forefront of her mind; just like the instructions say. She speaks aloud how much she misses him. She misses his smile, his smell, his touch. She misses the way he calms her, the way he grounds her. She misses his jokes and his quips and his quotes. She speaks it all aloud.

And she says why she wants him back. She wants to see him surf again. She wants to wake up in his arms. She wants to laugh and joke and cry together. She wants him back to share their life together; the life they almost got to have. 

The light gets closer with each word she utters. Another step, another piece of herself she offers. She reaches the light and it goes out, as she knew it would. She digs the flashlight out her back and turns it on, resisting the urge to scan the forest for threats.

The instructions say if you reach this point, the forest accepts you, is on your side, will protect you. The instructions say to sleep, knowing you’ll be safe. Veronica sits on the ground, placing the flashlight next to her. She cannot sleep when she’s at home in bed, she doesn’t think she’ll sleep here either. But she lays her head on the damp moss and tries anyway. 

The forest must have lulled her because she wakes the next morning to a green glow indicating a bright sun behind the canopy of trees. The light of day shows her she found her way to a clearing, a much bigger clearing than she expected this far in a dense forest.

Her whole body protests as she struggles to her feet. Taking a moment to stretch out each tender muscle, she catalogues where she hurts and how much. Nothing is sore enough to stop her. 

She stows away the flashlight. She’ll need it again later. 

She spies the blood red caps of a common mushroom to her left. The moss around the fungi is a richer, darker shade of green than the rest of the clearing. It’s the fairy ring she’s been seeking.

She stays outside the ring while she gets the rest of her food and water from her pack and places it in front of the circle, setting a small amount aside for her breakfast this morning. Her stomach churns and her heart hammers. She isn’t sure she can eat anything, though she knows she needs to. 

Strange energy buzzes through her, making her movements shaky and rushed. She needs to slow and calm down. Any mistakes and her whole trip will be for nothing. She needs deliberate focus, not anticipation driven sloppiness. 

Eating the small portion she set aside, she runs through what’s left of her journey. There’s so much to the instructions, so much to remember. Running through it again calms her racing thoughts and pounding heart. By the time she finishes her meal, she feels prepared. 

Leaving the rest of the food on the ground, she gets to her feet and fishes a quarter out of the side pocket of her bag. This is it, the moment of truth. She steps carefully into the ring and places the quarter on the ground in front of her, tails side up. 

Sucking in a steadying breath, she calls out, “I’m coming Logan. I’m going to bring you home, I promise.”


	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of my attempts to cheer up my friend. I hope you enjoy the next part of Veronica's journey!

One beat, two… three. Her heart drops. Maybe it’s a lie. Maybe it won’t work. Four, five. She’ll have to walk all the way back. Six. She’s not sure she can force herself to. Seven. Maybe they’ll find her in the woods. Eight. Her dad will cry again. Nine. Ten… Then - The quarter sinks into the ground.

Sighing in relief, she sways on her feet. It works. She retrieves one of the two coats she packed from her bag, slipping it on and replacing the bag on her back. The coat feels sweltering in the muggy heat but she ignores it and closes her eyes.

This part is difficult for her. She wants to keep her eyes open, watch what’s happening and know what’s coming. But she keeps them closed and imagines she is sinking down, down, down into the ground.

She thinks she can feel like she’s sinking into a mudhole but she ignores the tug of her curiosity and keeps her eyes closed. The musty odor of moss and dirt permeates her senses. And there’s something else that might be worms. She waits, keeps imagining herself sinking lower, until she smells it. Smoke.

Finally allowing herself to give in to the curiosity and open her eyes, she gets the final confirmation she needs: she’s actually done it. She’s underground. A tunnel stretches out before her, long and dark and headed down. It’s made of dirt, roots sprawling along the walls.

The batteries in the flashlight need replacing and Veronica does so, fingers faltering and clumsy the longer she works. The biting air numbs her joints faster than it should and she struggles as she slides the new batteries into place. She stuffs the flashlight in a side pocket once she finishes and focuses on the winding road before her.

She shivers in the coat as she walks down the tunnel, puff of air visible as she breathes out. She wishes she brought gloves. She stuffs her hands in her pockets and hunches her shoulders, trying to condense herself to preserve heat. The mush of the path belies the chill in the air and Veronica wonders how the environment around her can contrast so sharply with the temperature.

A short while ahead, she spies the house for which the instructions told her to watch - it’s small and made of decaying wood - Veronica’s pace quickens and she jogs the last few steps to the door. She hesitates only a moment before knocking firmly. It’s too late for hesitation, too late to turn back. The only way is forward. She steels herself with confidence she doesn't really feel.

The door creaks open and a small, dark-haired woman with pale, wrinkled skin peers up at her, which is a feat because she’s no towering figure herself. Veronica catches a glimpse of the cloudy, disfigured eyes before averting her gaze. The instructions were clear: do not stare.

“So long since there was a knock on my door.” Her voice is gravelly and low. “You have something pretty? They all have something pretty.”

Veronica doesn’t think the last part is for her so she focuses on fishing out the rose, handing it over wordlessly.

Eyes locked on the bloom, the woman gestures Veronica inside. “Come in. I have sandwiches. You must have travelled far.”

Still she makes no response. She’s not sure how she would anyway. It doesn’t seem to bother the woman as she leads through small rooms to what appears to be the back of the house.

The smell here resembles that of Veronica’s apartment shortly before she set off on this journey. Dust and char and something Veronica could never name mingling in an oppressive cloud.

The inside doesn’t match the smell, or their location. It is clean and tidy, no clutter or remnants of spells or trinkets strewn across the rooms. The apartment Veronica left behind would have fit better in this underworld setting than this place.

The woman waves at a sandwich from the table, offering it to her without comment.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I just ate.”

Veronica’s voice is rusty from disuse as she declines as instructed. Her throat tingles around the unfamiliar sensation and she clears it quickly, hoping she hasn’t offended her host.

The woman tuts, but makes no further comment and takes a seat at the table. A soft smile plays on her lips, comforting and off putting all at once. Veronica reminds herself not to stare as she takes the seat opposite the woman and waits, unsure what to say.

The instructions, as always, are clear: she needs to talk to the woman, offer her company if only for a short while. The only problem is over the last weeks Veronica has forgotten how to hold a conversation. She’s been stilted in all interaction since Logan… and she isn’t sure how to start.

The woman makes it easy and asks Veronica: “What brings a young thing like you, here? Usually it’s the old who come to bargain.”

The requested information is personal, probably the most personal thing Veronica could talk about. But with all she’s been holding in this is probably the topic she can talk about the most.

With a voice stronger than she feels Veronica tells this stranger about the biggest mistake she ever made. As Veronica talks, her eyes dance around the woman’s face, avoiding landing on her eyes. She tells her how over the last year she’d hardened to a shell, more bite than person. She tells her how when Logan proposed it forced her to look at herself and she didn’t like what she found. She tells her how she spiralled despite Logan trying to reach her and how that led to the bomb.

Choking as she finishes, Veronica squeezes her arms around her middle, willing herself to stay composed. She feels a soft hand and looks up to see the woman giving her a sympathetic squeeze.

“So,” Veronica clears her throat, “that’s why a young one like me is here.”

“You’re lucky,” the woman replies and it is so hard for Veronica to continue avoiding looking her in the eye. “A love like yours… It's precious. I see why you would come even here to save it.”

“I don’t know that I deserve it,” she whispers, admitting what has nagged at her since Logan first proposed.

The woman is silent for a moment, then finally offers: “We never do. The best we can hope for is to work towards deserving the love we are given.”

Veronica nods, not trusting her voice. They sit in silence, Veronica mulling the last few months, the person she’s been, the person Logan deserves and fighting the feeling that the woman across from her is weighing her soul.

Finally, as the instructions promise, the woman utters a secret. Veronica’s stomach turns and she forces herself to not react. Not blink, not flinch; no indication that she heard other than a fake nod of “that makes sense”. She isn’t sure she’ll ever get the secret out of her mind but if carrying this around means she gets Logan back, she’ll carry it the rest of her life.

With that, the woman indicates their time is over.

“You have someone to save,” she says as she ushers Veronica back to the front of the house.

As Veronica turns to thank the woman for her time, her words, her wisdom, the woman catches her hand and presses a penny to her palm.

She starts a little. According to the instructions, everyone’s gift is different and though she’d spent most her time on planning and memorizing and keeping herself going, the mystery of what her gift would be sat in the back of her mind the entire time. Now that she sees the penny she thinks it’s an appropriate one. A penny, worth so little and a symbol of so much more.

“For luck,” the woman says, and she shoos Veronica off with Veronica’s words still stuck in her throat. All she manages is a quick “goodbye” as the door closes behind her.

She continues down the tunnel, one step after another. The further she gets from the house the darker the tunnel becomes. Pulling the flashlight from her bag, she wraps the end of her coat over her hand and holds the flashlight out to illuminate the path.

She lost track of time long ago but the endless walking makes her feel drained and a sense of hopelessness creeps over her. Maybe she was found unworthy. Maybe she’ll be walking this tunnel forever and never make it to Logan.

Her legs are weak beneath her and she is stumbling on every dip in the rough trail. She had hoped not to need this part of the instructions, hoped she would make it to the river before the need to sleep became overwhelming.

It doesn’t matter what she hoped; she needs to sleep or she will collapse. She shines the light around, looking for a decent place to lay down and catch a few minutes of rest and realizes it all looks the same.

She’s alone in the tunnel and the ground pits and dips no matter where she chooses to set her makeshift bed. Pulling out the second coat, she drapes it over her as she lays on the ground, head pillowed by the backpack, and closes her eyes.

There’s no way to know how many hours have passed when she wakes. All she knows is she doesn’t feel like she’s going to pass out and the rest she can ignore. She ignores the pulling bunch of her overworked muscles as she places the second coat back in her bag. She ignores the biting of her stomach as she pretends not to notice the food that appeared in her bag. She knows she can’t eat it, anyway. She ignores the protest of her throbbing, burning feet as she stands and starts back on the trail.

The tunnel doesn’t change and if it weren’t for the screaming protest from her body she would think she wasn’t actually making any progress. She pushes aside the growing doubt. It can’t help her now.

Finally, mercifully, the tunnel lightens. She stows the flashlight again and quickens her pace to where she can see the path widen. She’s made it to the river and there is the woman from the house, guarding the river shore just as the instructions said she would be. It is strange to see her here, having left her back at the house, but Veronica doesn’t question it. She knows better than to try to understand the laws that govern this place.

There is no forced friendliness in Veronica's “hello”, just relief. However odd that the woman beat her here, it is a comfort to see another face and an even greater one that the face is familiar. The woman doesn’t speak this time, just holds her hand out and Veronica gives her back the penny. It feels like the penny really did bring her some luck. She made it here, after all.

Veronica takes the outstretched flower from the woman and is gestured into the small boat that hadn’t been there moments before. She doesn’t stop to think about it, just climbs in. After settling on the wooden bench, she turns back to thank the woman but finds the shore deserted. Another oddity to pretend doesn’t bother her.

Fog rises from the water as the boat jerks to a start. Soon the air is thick and visibility is near zero. This is worse than when she had to keep her eyes closed to enter this realm because this time her eyes are wide open and she still can’t see a foot past her face.

The boat steers itself and Veronica is grateful to leave that to the mysteries of this place. Even itching to be able to control _something_ , she knows the current situation is out of her hands. But she’s made it this far, this place seems to accept her, and she tries to trust that the instructions have safely led her this far.

The jarring _thump_ of the boat running aground crashes her to her knees. Wincing, she stands and carefully steps onto shore. The fog has only grown thicker but there’s not much she can do but continue moving forward. Not that she would turn around now if she could. She’s so close now even the numbing cold permeating every inch of her is ignored in favor of the building buzz of excitement. She can almost feel him. He’s so close now.

A wisp of movement catches her eye and she tracks it, recognizing a wandering soul. The instructions were right yet again: they don’t care that she is here. Another soul floats by and she recognizes the look on its face; it’s the one she avoids in the mirror every day. She shivers.

The air and silence become oppressive as she moves forward, pressing in on her ears and her mind drowning out even her thoughts. She’s prepared for the silence and already has a song to hum away the unbearable presence around her. The haunting melody fits with her surroundings and mood and she thinks this place appreciates her selection because the music starts to blend with silence in an unnatural way.

She loses count of how many times she hums the song. The melody shifts the more she hums and she thinks she’s humming something else entirely now. It’s almost like the air around her is stealing the music she hums and changing it into something new.

Veronica doesn’t fight it, like she doesn’t fight the slow pace at which she is finding Logan. She let go of control the moment she boarded the flight to come here and she knows trying to take back control will only drive her crazy. She’ll never save Logan if she goes crazy…

The souls are getting denser. It is a struggle to weave through them but it feels disrespectful to walk as if they aren’t there. She tries to count them as she hums but stops the third time she loses count somewhere after 1000. Somehow she knows she didn’t count any twice.

Logan wouldn’t like to be in such a stifling group so she veers in another direction until the souls thin out again. Here she slows her pace, studying each face even though she knows she’ll feel him far before she sees him.

Then it happens, that jolt of electricity, that spark. He’s close. She turns, holding a piercing note as she looks for him. A second… two, and there he is. The note she was holding cuts off with a choke and she falls to her still sore knees. A sob tears from her as she looks at him; close and yet still so far.

She’s found him.

Crawling up to her feet, she approaches slowly. She doesn’t say his name like she so desperately wants to, doesn’t run up to him or call out to him. She’s never been so restrained in her life.

Standing beside him, she utters a soft hello.


	3. Idle Moments

Logan doesn’t look at her. None of the souls look at her. She thinks he probably doesn’t realize she’s here for him. This part will take time, probably the longest, most painful time of everything so far. She doesn’t reach out to him or try to touch him, as desperate as she is to feel him again, because she knows it will do more harm than good. Instead, she takes a seat on the ground next to Logan and starts to talk.

He stays, not drifting away. She thinks he might like listening to her voice. She avoids talking about anything past his proposal. The memories are still so painful for her, she imagines they won’t be the most effective to pull him back. She sticks to happy anecdotes and funny memories, hoping the warmth will bring him back to her.

He’s sitting next to her now, as much as a soul can “sit”. His eyes never leave her face and she avoids thinking about how glassy and far away he looks. At least the emptiness has drained away. 

She keeps babbling on, talking without getting personal. It’s hard with him; she’s finally at a point where she wants him to know everything but he’s not ready. She needs to put him first, for once. 

The pressure changes around her and she looks up: he’s staring at her, actually looking directly at her face. His eyes are clear and her heart hammers in her chest. She has to remind herself not to get carried away. The process of getting him back is a slow one. 

She realizes she stopped talking but maybe that’s for the better because his mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s trying to remember how to speak. Finally, a wispy sound escapes him:

“Yu- you’re al- alive?” It’s a question and a statement. She nods. “Why?”

She knows him well enough to know he’s not asking why she’s alive. He’s asking why someone alive is here. It’s a fair enough question but she can’t tell him the whole truth yet. 

“I came to find someone,” she answers, eyes down. She worries what he’ll read if she looks him in the eyes; though she’s not sure he remembers how just yet. 

He’s silent for a moment, then asks “is it better?”.

Logan, ever the optimist, has been hoping for a world better than the one he’s in. She’s glad to be the one to confirm his hopes. She embellishes on the warmth of the sun and the brightness of life and growth. She tells him about travel and food and pets. Slowly, she sees the light returning to his eyes.

He participates in the conversation more, now. Still stilted and reserved, still not the vibrant Logan from before, but she can feel him coming back to her, piece by piece. 

She’s explaining about traffic and why it is frustrating (“but you can move so fast,” he counters, and she just shakes her head; he’ll remember soon enough) when he shivers for the first time. 

“Are you cold?” 

He nods and she slips off the coat she’s wearing, handing it over. He struggles to put it on but she knows she can’t help. Not yet. Hopefully the heat she put into the coat will be enough to warm him. 

She retrieves the second coat from her bag and pulls it on, shuddering against the cool touch of the vinyl fabric.

“You know me.”

Logan’s always been direct. It’s both comforting and irritating for him to be so much himself. 

“Yes,” she responds softly, meeting his gaze for the first time since she found him. She thinks he’s ready. The instructions weren’t so clear on these points, as every person needs something different, but she thinks he’s ready to remember. “Your name is Logan.”

He studies her, with an intensity she’s missed, cocking his head to the side. “Logan,” he tries the name. It sounds foreign coming from his mouth but he seems satisfied. He breaks into his trademark grin and her heart melts. “I think it fits,” he declares. 

“Me too,” she whispers, choking on a well of emotion. It won’t help him for her to break down now. 

Remembering the next instruction, she pulls the lighter from her pocket and holds it out to him. He reaches for it and her skin buzzes as his ice cold fingertips graze her palm. He rubs the front of the lighter and smiles softly at her, the unspoken “thank you” clear. 

It’s time, she thinks. There’s nothing more she can do here and she hopes she’s done enough to be able to lead him home. 

“Logan?” He drags his eyes from the lighter and looks at her. “I’m Veronica. Do you want to leave here?”

He’s looking at her again, like he’s weighing and measuring her and she’s worried he won’t like what he finds. She sure hasn’t lately. But, mercifully, he nods and offers a soft but firm “yes”. 

She stands and offers her hand, just as the instructions say. He takes her offered hand and her breath catches as she tries not to pull away. He’s so cold. She reminds herself he isn’t a corpse, as much as he feels like one. 

They need to go back to the river but Veronica doesn’t even remember which way she came from. Hopefully the instructions are right about this, too, and it won’t matter. She picks a random direction and starts to walk, Logan trailing a half step behind. 

She doesn't know how he stays behind her without walking awkwardly. Usually she’s the one a step behind him. She doesn’t check to see if he’s actually walking or not. She doesn’t really want to know.

The fog breaks slightly to her left and the river comes into view. The old woman is there, waiting on the bank. The boat nowhere in sight. 

Veronica heads straight for her, still clutching Logan’s hand, and uses the other to get back out the rose. The woman gives her the penny again, remarking that it must be lucky after all. After they exchange gifts, the woman waves Veronica and Logan into the newly appeared boat. 

Without letting go of his hand, she manuvers herself and Logan onto the boat. They settle into their seats and the boat jerks to life. Veronica was prepared this time, gripping the seat with her free hand to keep from tumbling. Logan doesn’t seem to notice the sudden movement.

They ride in silence while the boat propels itself across the river. 

When they reach the other shore, he struggles to lift himself out of the boat. She keeps hold of his hand and offers her arm to steady and support him. He leans heavily on her as he climbs out but she barely feels his weight at all. 

With Logan already fading, Veronica looks up the long path ahead. She doesn’t know how they are going to make it but they’ve come this far and she refuses give up. 

She encourages Logan on, whispering how strong he is and how much she believes in him. He perks up at this and walks more steadily. She keeps talking, telling him about her favorite places in Neptune as they start off on the path.

Her voice is growing hoarse and her feet numb from walking when she feels her stomach rumble. It’s probably been days since she last ate. The food in her backpack picks at her mind but she pushes the thought away. She didn’t come this far to lose it all to her appetite. She talks louder, hoping to drown out her hunger.

Her stomach is a full chorus the first time Logan trips. She doesn’t mention his stumble, just offers extra support and a “you’re doing amazing, Logan” peppered into her story about why she decided to move into a studio apartment rather than have any more roommates in college. 

The fifth time he doesn’t just trip, he crashes to his knees. She pulls at him, encouraging him to his feet. He begs her to let him stop, let him rest. She tries not to notice the crack in his voice or the tears that leave no trace in the dirt where they splash. 

Promising they can rest soon, she picks him up. She tries not to think about why she can easily pick him up and carry him. 

She also tries to ignore that his heart is still; there is time to think later and for now she needs to walk. She breathes through the tightness in her chest and swallows down the bile in her throat. One step and then another. That’s all she focuses on. 

Her voice is barely a horse whisper but she keeps talking anway. She never realized just how much she never told Logan, how much of herself she never shared. She tells him now, and vows to tell him everything again once they’re home. She never should have tried to keep herself separate from him. 

Up in the distance, the old woman’s house comes into view. She breaks into a smile and quickens her pace. 

“We’re almost there, Logan,” she promises. 

Past the house and up the road, she keeps her eyes ahead and waits for the last trial the instructions said was coming. She’s counting her steps, 30… now 52… and she feels it: the hair on the back of her neck stands on end. 

A shiver runs down her spine and she knows someone is watching them, following them. She wants so badly to turn around and confront whoever it is. She feels so exposed. But the instructions were clear. 

Thank god for the instructions. She would have failed long ago without them. 

The tingling gets stronger and she realizes she stopped talking. She hums the song from earlier. She wants to take off down the tunnel, run from whatever is following them, but she knows Logan deserves better than her fear. 

Instead, she stops and places Logan gently on the ground, keeping up the gentle hum of the song. Maybe it will help him more than it helps her. 

She gets the blanket out of her backpack and wraps in around Logan’s shivering shoulders. After replacing the backpack, she picks Logan up and starts off again. The presence behind her fades with every step she takes. 

A pinpoint of light appears up ahead and she finally allows herself to break into a run, cradling Logan to her chest as she pushes towards it. Light grows around her, brighter and brighter until everything turns white. 

The next second she is standing back in the fairy ring, Logan still in her arms. She nearly collapses in relief but she’s not done yet. 

Placing Logan on the ground, she tells him he has to breathe. He looks at her, confused and scared, and she grabs one of his hands. She holds the hand to her chest and inhales deeply. 

“See Logan?” She breathes again. “Like this.”

He coughs and drags in a shaky breath. She collapses her face in her hands, trying to control her desire to break down and cry. There’s still so much to do but she allows herself a moment to regain her composure. 

But only a moment. She opens her eyes and looks for the food she left earlier. It’s still on the ground and she grabs it, turning to Logan. He’s laid down on the ground, eyes closed but breathing strong. 

She shakes him with an apology and his eyes peel open. She gets him to eat and drink and then lets him rest. He hasn’t been able to sleep since he died… 

Eating a bit herself, she takes him in. He looks so small and frail, but he is here, solid and whole and back in the world. After this, she believes even less in a god, but someone kept his soul safe and someone let her bring him back. She doesn’t know who, but she thanks them silently as she finishes her meal. 

Logan is still ice cold as she snuggles up against him to sleep, wrapping herself around him and willing her heat into him. She places a hand directly over his heart and lets the steady _thump, thump, thump_ lull her as she drifts off to sleep. 

She wakes to a bright green glow surrounding her. There’s no way to tell what time it is, or even what day it is. 

Logan is more warm in her arms now and his color is almost entirely back to normal. He is still deep asleep and Veronica lets him dream. She hopes his dreams are good ones.

The bright green glow has faded by the time Logan stirs. She sits next to him, letting him get up at his own pace. Finally, he rolls over and opens his eyes to see her sitting beside him. He blinks twice, then breaks into a grin. 

“Veronica.”

**Author's Note:**

> As you can probably tell, this story is entirely unfinished. I am going to turn it into a multi-chapter fic, probably starting after the New Year so I can focus on the Christmas Exchange. I hope you enjoyed it, regardless of the unresolved ending here. I promise Logan will be saved!
> 
> Also, this is my last contribution to the series, so I wanted to say thank you so much to the lovely ladies who invited me in and helped encourage me through the stories. You guys are amazing and I'm so grateful for the opportunity to be a part of this journey. <3 You guys are the best.


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